Today, for the first time in ages, I opened the word file which I prepared months ago for my thesis. I only opened it to put in the titles of the various sections as they're set up right now - not to actually write, not yet anyway. But I guess it's a small step, which will lead to slightly larger steps... Well, there is a section which is going to be very easy to write, right in the middle of it, which has a lot to do with an essay I wrote recently, so I reckon those will be the east first couple of thousand words. Fingers crossed.
I just wish I wasn't the kind of person who spends half of her time thinking about the time wasted; the time wasted was for a reason, specifically that I was having a complete nervous breakdown, and that could not be helped. I think I've become a great believer in letting things work themselves out, without putting too much pressure on.
Yesterday I had my last 'planned' meeting with my counsellor (I might have a couple more) and it made me realise how angry I am, mainly at this institution, for claiming to be all that it is not, and for requiring me to prove myself in terms I do not appreciate nor accept. This place has made me understand that this degree is nothing, means nothing, but that life is ultimately so hypocritical it would not surprise me if this degree meant absolutely everything for my future. All because people are going to see the word 'Oxford' on a piece of paper they get from me, when all I've got from this place is the skills required to overcome depression.
I'm being negative, I know, but I'm sick and tired of this place. The desire to get out of here is what I hope will force me into writing this damn thesis, and finish this whole thing off.
On a more positive note, re-reading through the structure and writing things down wasn't actually as scary as I thought it would. Maybe the time when I'm going to be rid of the elephant in the room is getting closer.